


The Watcher at the Wall

by deisegal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deisegal/pseuds/deisegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melisandre watches Stannis sleep and ponders the cost of what they are doing..</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Watcher at the Wall

Melisandre seemed to spend as much time at night watching Stannis sleep as she did staring into the flames of late. There was there was something familiar about it now, and it was a respite from the pain caused by the visions. He suddenly shifted and rolled over so he was facing her, one of his hands tucked under his chin and a strangely serene look on his face. It was strange because she knew he was being eaten alive from the inside with grief and guilt. He had never quite been able to come to terms with what he had done to Renly even if he liked to present an unapologetic front to the world. They never spoke of Renly. It was easier that way. She didn't need to hear tales of their childhood, of brotherly love, if there even had been any between them. Renly had been a usurper, an obstacle, and he had brought his doom upon himself. She shifted her legs and adjusted her dress, smoothing the folds. Many unpleasant things had to be done in order for Stannis to triumph. She only hoped she could ease the burden. Encouraging him to sleep in her bed was one of those ways. 

He'd been appalled the first time she suggested she stay the night with him, in his tent in the Stormlands. The Onion Knight had returned her to the camp, having rowed the entire way back in silence. She certainly didn't blame him. While she viewed the manifestation of her shadow binding as a beautiful, vital thing, it couldn't have been easy for such a plain and straightforward man to witness. She knew he'd probably have nightmares over what he'd seen. But it was Stannis who concerned her. And sure enough, he was pacing the tent on her return, a grim look on his face

"Is it done?" he snapped.

"It is, my King"

Immediately upon hearing the words, his shoulders sagged and he stumbled back, landing on his bed. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

She stepped forward to reach out to him, "You know there was no other way."

"Leave me!" he spat out through gritted teeth.

"I do not think you should be alone tonight"

He looked up at her, his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile, "Tonight? So you'd share my bed, would you? Keep my feet warm?"  


"My King, I only meant that I would be here to watch over you as you sleep, should your dreams be troubled".

"I'm not a child either, to have my brow soothed. Leave."

Melisandre bowed her head and walked away to her own tent. She would have to wait for him to reach out to her. She discarded the heavy robe she had worn in the cave and began to wash herself. There had been no other way. It had been the righteous thing to do. She dressed herself in one of her more simple robes and took a seat by the flames. By rights she should rest after the events of the night, but she didn't have time for that. She needed further assurance of Stannis' victory. She could not say how long she had been staring into the flames when Devan came to her and told her the King wished for her to attend to him. She knew by the panicked look on Devan's face what has happening.

Stannis was in a dishevelled state upon her arrival; his bedclothes were askew and he was sweating profusely. Devan hung back awkwardly at the tent flap, unsure of what he should do next. Melisandre immediately went to the washbowl and wrung out a cloth, before turning to the befuddled young squire.

"You may leave us Devan, I will take care of the King now."

"But I can't leave unless he orders me to, my Lady!"

"I can speak for him."

Doubt clouded his face at this statement, but he bowed his head all the same and stepped out, with one last brief look of concern at Stannis. Melisandre knew he idolised the King and it must have been distressing to witness him in this state. She also knew that Stannis would despise his weakness in the morning, despise the fact that he needed her comfort and care. He would certainly loathe the idea that his men might be whispering about him. But that was of no concern to her. She stroked the damp cloth over his fevered brow and whispered a simple prayer in High Valyrian. After a few moments his breathing began to regulate and he turned his head to look at her.

"What is it, why am I seeing this..these things..?"

"It is completely natural, my King."

"There...there is nothing..nat-natural about this..the shadows they....."

"My King, you know there was no cleaner way of doing this. And this is all part of it. It will pass...in time" A slight lie would help him through the night. She knew it would never truly pass. It never did for her. But she had learned to accept it. Of course she had the advantage of not requiring sleep, so she could avoid the worst of it. She leaned over and repeated the prayer into his ear, rubbing his cheek with the cloth all the while. When it was obvious he was calmer, she went to stand up but he pulled at her hand.

"No. You cannot leave".

"I just want to put the cloth back. I am here to serve you my King, I am not going anywhere."

She left the cloth back on the bowl then returned to the bed. She sat up higher than him, and placed her arm behind him on the pillow, barely touching him. She needed him to come to her willingly and though he hesitated briefly, he slumped against her. She ran her fingers along the side of his face, stroking at the short hairs at his temple, until she heard his breathing slow down further, and he had drifted off to sleep. All she was certain of was that Stannis was the Chosen One. But she could only hope that he was strong enough to endure the physical toll.

****

That toll was now even more starkly obvious as he lay on his side in her bed at the Wall.

She traced a finger softly along the side of his face, lingering for a moment on the sharpness of his cheekbone. He was all angles and lines, harsh and weathered. But yet there was still a softness about him as he slept, in the one place where he could find some sort of peace, with her watching over him. She let her fingers rest lightly on his jawbone and rubbed her thumb across the hollow of his cheek, relishing the scratchiness of the stubble. He’d become more haphazard with his personal grooming after Blackwater. His hair had gone completely grey almost overnight. To an outsider his appearance might have been curious, as though he had aged years overnight and the flesh had melted from his bones following the shock of his catastrophic defeat. Melisandre knew otherwise. She knew the cost. She felt it in her own bones every day,but she had been trained over many years to deal with the pain. Stannis only had his own strength of will and that stubborn Baratheon streak and though he was mentally stronger than anyone she had ever met before, this was still a crushing weight to bear. And he wouldn't have her to soothe him to sleep when he marched south. But she dare not leave the Wall now, not when she could feel her powers growing by the day.

She let her hand rest lightly in his thinning hair and glanced across at the flames. She was just about get up to sit in her chair when he stirred. She quickly shifted so she was lying face to face with him. She always enjoyed this moment - the moment when he was half between sleep and waking, not alert enough to hate himself, no barb on the tip of his tongue.

"You slept well"

"What makes you think that?"

_Because you did not flail and thrash in the bed and need to be held. Because tears didn't roll down your cheeks. Because you didn't call out your brother's name._

"You looked peaceful, my King"

He snorted, but only in a half hearted fashion, closed his eyes again and turned his back to her. The fact that he returned to sleep with no dark muttering about how he should go back to his own quarters was a small victory in itself, an acknowledgement that he needed this, that he needed her. He didn't flinch when she drew closer to him and draped an arm over his side. And when she took hold of his hand and pressed lightly on his palm, he even squeezed back.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who has read my other fics knows that I tend to take bits from both show and book canon. And this fic is no different – Devan exists in this ‘verse. But I have gone with the only one shadow baby death as per the show and that Stannis has knowledge of what happens in the cave. I’ve also noted that Stannis’ physical deterioration was an overnight thing rather than the more gradual development in the books. It remains to be seen if the show will continue to present Stannis’ physical deterioration.
> 
> Also – I nabbed the idea of Mel whispering in High Valyrian into Stannis’ ear from bitteriron’s wonderful fic [Communion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/825903) . Carice was rocking the High Valyrian in 3.06 so it would be nice to hear more of this in future!
> 
> Drawing to go with this fic on my Tumblr [here](http://justinmassey.tumblr.com/post/56800009225/melisandre-watches-stannis-sleeping-at-the-wall)


End file.
